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      “I’ll just pop in to say hi,” Eliza said as they walked down the hospital corridor. “Then you’re on your own.”

      April wasn’t sure what she would say, but her nervousness fled when they entered the room, and she saw Maddie. The woman had aged, as Eliza had said. Her hair was gray and thin, her cheeks hollow, her skin wrinkled and parchmentlike. But Maddie’s eyes were bright, and they seemed to light up when she saw April. One side of her mouth rose up in a smile and garbled sounds came out.

      “Hi, Maddie,” April said softly. How could she have been worried about seeing her foster mother again?

      She leaned over and gathered the older woman into a hug, squeezing gently. “I’ve missed you so much,” she said, blinking back tears. It was true, April realized. She had missed Maddie. And Eliza and Jo. Only now that she was back could she admit it to herself.

      It was good to be home.

      Dear Reader,

      Family has always been important to me. I was lucky enough to know my great-grandparents and grandparents. I “know” earlier generations through family history research. I even have one great-aunt in good health at age 104. The memories, family stories and feeling of connection are all precious.

      How difficult it would be for someone to not have a single idea of her background. What if a woman had no identity except what was given her by Social Services? April is just such a person. All the time she was growing up in foster care, she tried to find a clue to where she came from, who her people were. But she ran into brick walls and unresponsive bureaucrats.

      A dozen years later she’s returning to her childhood home, and another opportunity to restart the search--this time with the help of a man who loves to unravel mysteries. But there are no guarantees.

      So maybe instead of searching the past for her family, April has to realize she has a family with the foster sister and foster mother who had once meant so much to her. And that she can make her own family present and future—if she can convince the man she loves to make that future with her.

      To you who are blessed with family, cherish them. For those who don’t know your past, may you be able to accept the present and make your own future full of love and family ties, however you care to make them.

      Happy reading!

      Barbara

      Lies That Bind

      Barbara McMahon

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To Kay Polk, friend, fellow genealogist and family historian.

       Let’s find those connections!

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      APRIL JEFFRIES HUNG UP the phone and crawled back into bed. She was more miserable than she’d ever felt in her life. Pulling the covers up to her ears, she closed her eyes, and tried to ignore her aching body and focus instead on the phone conversation she’d just had.

      What a shock to hear from Eliza Shaw! They had been closer than sisters while growing up as foster children in the small Mississippi town of Maraville. Separated when they were teenagers, they’d had no contact in twelve years. April had put her childhood memories in storage—the good and the bad—and left the United States seven years ago to embark on a new life in Paris.

      She’d thought she had it all back then, a wonderful husband, promising career, glamorous lifestyle.

      One out of three wasn’t bad. She’d made it to the top in an increasingly competitive field. A well-known model who commanded high fees to showcase the latest creations of the world’s leading designers, April had to partially credit her playboy second husband, Jean-Paul Sartain, for her success. At least he’d done her some good before he’d broken her heart by turning to another woman.

      Restless, she pushed away the covers, wishing someone was around to fix her some hot soup. But her friends all thought she was still in Marrakech. She should have called someone when she got back to Paris a couple of days ago.

      But there was no way she was going to feel sorry for herself, not when Eliza had called her. There had been several messages on her answering machine when she’d returned home, and at last they’d actually talked to each other. The years had dropped away as if they’d been together only yesterday.

      April smiled despite feeling so ill. It had been wonderful to hear from her foster sister. Not that Eliza’s news had been good. Maddie Oglethorpe, their former foster mother, had suffered a stroke and was in the hospital. While her doctor was cautiously optimistic, Maddie was still at risk for a second stroke. And recovery would be a long process.

      Eliza had urged April to return to her former hometown. April’s initial inclination was to say no. Even under the best of circumstances, she had never envisioned herself returning to Maraville. She’d never felt she belonged there. But as Eliza kept talking, memories came rushing back. Maddie, Eliza and Jo, Maddie’s third foster child, were the only family April had ever known. Because of Jo’s lies, the family tie they’d tenuously shared had been broken. Now Eliza wanted them to reconnect.

      But return to Maraville? April wasn’t sure she could face the ghosts.

      She had told Eliza how sick she was. When she felt better she would make a decision. But how long would it take to get over this bug she’d picked up in Marrakech?

      If she did go back to Maraville, she wouldn’t have to stay for long, a few days at most. Catch up with Eliza, pay a few visits to Maddie. Much as April had railed against the rules her foster mother had laid down when the girls were teenagers, she couldn’t deny Maddie had done her best for the three of them. April could make a quick trip and then resume her life in France.

      For years she’d missed Eliza and Jo. Granted, she now had plenty of friends in Paris and Cannes, but not old friends who had known her as a child. Not close friends to whom she could tell anything.

      And if she were honest, she missed Maddie, too. The thought surprised her. April remembered the endless arguments she’d had with Maddie about her hair, her clothes, her makeup. Maddie had been older than most of her friends’ mothers, and April had constantly brought up the age difference. Maddie was from the dinosaur age. She didn’t have a clue what everyone was wearing.

      April had also resented Maddie for a deeper reason. When she was very young, April had blamed the woman for taking her mother’s place. April didn’t know who her parents were, but she’d believed that if Maddie hadn’t taken her in as a foster child, maybe her own relatives would have stepped up to claim her.

      As an adult, April could see that possibility was unlikely. One foster home was as good as another to the state of Mississippi. If she hadn’t been sent to Maddie’s, she would have gone elsewhere.

      April cringed a little as she thought back to arguments. Maddie had done her best in dealing with girls who resented her kindness and fought against the system, Maddie and even each other from time to time.

      In retrospect, April had to admit

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